Page 58 of Every Single Wildflower
“Deal.”
Chapter forty-three
Ivy
“Where do you want this?” I hold up the basket full of socks and underwear that Mrs. Henson dropped off.
The one good thing about this town is if there’s ever a tragedy, the forces are called in. I can’t even count the number of casserole dishes that are scattered on my aunt’s kitchen counter. Not to mention the bin of clothes that Millie wrangled up for my mom and Doc, our vet showed up with at least ten pairs of wranglers that are my father’s size. I think it’s just now hitting them what all was lost. Years worth of memories. But they had the necessities. Clothing, food, and toiletries. And a roof over their heads.
My father enters the living room, looking exactly the same as he did for most of my childhood. Wranglers, a plaid button-down shirt, and his snakeskin boots. His brown hair is now mixed with strands of gray, his walk a little slower, but he has the same warm eyes.
“You can just put it by the dining table,” mom says. She points to the recliner. “Emmett. That’s your spot for the next few days.”
“Woman, I got cattle to check," he grumbles, before lifting the foil on a casserole dish to peek at the contents.
“The cattle can wait. That’s what our sons are for,” she fusses. “Your orders from the doctor are to rest.”
“I’ll rest when I’m dead.” He winks at me, knowing he’s just riling her up.
A flash of the past makes me smile. The way he used to tease her. Their easy banter that was so evident through my childhood. I think that was why his betrayal hit so hard. I never thought in a thousand years he would stray. He always doted on my mother and she on him. Theylovedeach other. I knew it.
Even after his elaborate show of stubbornness, he shuffles to the chair and sits down.
“That’s what I thought,” she says, her eyebrows raised as she folds a pair of jeans.
Dad’s smile is small, but I can still see the exhaustion in his eyes. The loss of so many things, and the unsettled situation between us. It’s still nestled beneath the surface, and I know it needs to be addressed. After seeing Jamie last night, I was so angry. But I’ve had years to dissect the affair. The reasons. The consequences. I’m not sure if I’m hurting myself more than helping by reliving it all the time. Thinking of what I could have done different.
“Are you hungry?” I ask him.
“I could eat.” He settles back. “Give me a variety.”
Dakota has been manning the kitchen, so she hands me a plate, along with a serving spoon and I dish out a few scoops from different pans. I had just handed my father his plate when a knock came at the door.
“I’ll grab it.” My Aunt Penelope waves a hand.
I knew who it was. And deep down I knew this news wouldn’t be taken well.
“Arson.” My father’s voice booms, and I flinch. “Someone burned down my house while I was in it?” His face hardens, his skin turning a shade of red that I haven’t seen since I was a teenager.
“Emmett.” My mom places her hands on his shoulders. “Let him talk.”
Sam, the fire chief and my father’s childhood friend sighs. “I know it’s a shock. I assumed with the farmhouse being as old as it is, that it had some faulty wiring, or the furnace had issues.” He runs a hand over his khakis.
“What did Warren find to make this conclusion?” My father asks, his eyes narrowed.
“The burn patterns. Warren concluded there was more than one point of origin.” Sam exhales. “Did you see anything? Hear anything?”
“No. I was asleep in my chair in front of the tv. Ruthie was at book club.” My father shakes his head. “I know exactly who did this.”
“Emmett, we had to give this information to the police. They will take over the investigation. I need you to steer clear. Don’t do anything stupid,” he advises.
“You‘ve known me my entire life, Sam. When have I been quick to strike?”
Sam chuckles. “Always. Which is why I need you to leave this to the professionals.”
“Professionals,” he scoffs. “Odis couldn’t pour water out of a boot with the instructions on the heel.”
Odis is the police chief, and has made quite the impression while in office. Considering he basically bought his position, my father isn’t a fan, and of course, he’s Rocky Bernard’s younger brother so he automatically receives a negative reaction from my father.
